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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024935">bubblegum</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>happy hour! [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AYO !!! PINKHAIRINNITS COME GET UR JUICE, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hair Dyeing, I Am Not British, IRL Fic, Lowercase, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, i dunno if yall dye hair differently or not, i live for wilbur and tommy brother dynamic, lowercase intended, so forgive me if i get anything wrong, so true ao3 tags, what can i say.. im a simple being</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:34:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"fuck you, bitch!" tommy screams into the phone, letting out a screech as he accidentally knocks over the open bottle of dye into the toilet. "oh, fuck- oh shit, fuck, i blame you for this, wilbur! my toilets gonna be pink and shit now!"</p><p>wilbur does nothing but laugh, and tommy takes the phone away from his ear for a second to glare at it with a scoff. wilbur laughs harder, as if he can tell tommy's glaring at him through the screen.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>happy hour! [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>bubblegum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>tommy doesn't really know <em>why</em> he decided randomly-- out of nowhere, might he add-- to pick up a bottle of pink hair dye at the store. he was wandering around looking for something-or-other, and stumbled upon it; and with a non-committal hum, he had shrugged and grabbed it to buy.</p><p> </p><p>he now stands with a predicament.</p><p> </p><p><em>how</em> the <em>hell</em> was he supposed to dye his hair?</p><p>did... was he just supposed to pour it on his head and rub it around or something??? there's no <em>instructions</em>! all it mentions is to not mix it with any other chemicals or whatever, yadda yadda, something something no shampoo.</p><p> </p><p>is he supposed to have special tools or whatever to put the dye in? god. who knew the hair dye industry could be so grueling?</p><p> </p><p>he sets the bottle of hair dye on the counter of his bathroom sink, and stares at it as if it had personally offended him-- and y'know what? it practically had! no instructions, no big blaring sign to say 'hey! don't pour this shit on yo head'. it was criminal.</p><p>he unscrews the lid of the bottle and leans over to sniff it with a scrunched-up expression; though he stares, wide-eyed at the bottle, because why the hell did the dye smell like <em>bubblegum</em>? was he putting liquid candy and shit in his hair?</p><p> </p><p>fuck this. he was getting wilbur. wilbur was like... cool, and shit. he probably knew how to dye hair.</p><p>hopefully. maybe. probably?</p><p> </p><p>he leans against the side of the sink and fishes his phone out of his pocket, opening his messages with wilbur on discord with practiced ease.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <strong>tommyinnit: WILBUR</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>tommyinnit: BIG MAN</strong>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong>tommyinnit: BIG W!!!!! MASSIVE W!!!</strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <strong>wilbur soot: what do you want</strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <strong>tommyinnit: what do you know about dying hair</strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em> <strong>wilbur soot is calling...</strong> </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>"heyyy, big man!" tommy laughs awkwardly, and he can hear wilbur's grin as he responds.</p><p> </p><p>"what's this about dyeing your hair?" he asks, tommy's eyes squint as he looks at the hair dye's label again, sighing.</p><p> </p><p>"i do not know how to do it," he mutters. "there's no instructions n' shit."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>he hears wilbur's silent exhales of quiet laughter, and tommy feels himself relaxing at the familiar sound regardless.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"well," wilbur begins, and he hears the faint rustling of some sort of cloth in the background, followed by a click. "and-- sorry, i'm doing laundry, but-- i mean, do you have vaseline or something?"</p><p> </p><p>"why the hell would i need <em>vaseline</em>?" tommy sputters, pulling a face.</p><p> </p><p>"to keep the dye off your skin?" wilbur huffs, chuckling. "what, do you think there's some magic chemical in the dye to keep it off your skin?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>tommy decides not to reply to that, but apparently his silence does <em>wonders</em> to tug at wilbur's humor; he hears him sputter in laughter, voice trailing off a bit as wilbur likely held the phone away.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"whatever," he pouts, crossing his arms. "i can be careful. do i just pour it on my head or what?"</p><p> </p><p>"you-" wilbur stutters, appalled. "'<em>i'll be careful!</em>' you say, and immediately after you just go-"</p><p> </p><p>"alright, <em>okay</em>, no need to be a bitch!" tommy yells, before letting out a loud laugh. "listen, listen, ok! i'm very smart. i know what i'm doing, i just wanted another perspective on this whole thing-"</p><p> </p><p>"<em>sure</em>, that's why you called me," wilbur says, cutting him off, and tommy can <em>hear</em> the bastard smirking.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>he sputters angrily (though not really-- was was almost never actually angry with wilbur), gesturing his free hand wildly as if it'd somehow strengthen his following statements.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"fuck you, bitch!" tommy screams into the phone, letting out a screech as he accidentally knocks over the open bottle of dye into the toilet. "oh, fuck- oh shit, fuck, i blame you for this, wilbur! my toilets gonna be pink and shit now!"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>wilbur does nothing but laugh, and tommy takes the phone away from his ear for a second to glare at it with a scoff. wilbur laughs harder, as if he can tell tommy's glaring at him through the screen.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"i mean, at least you got the dye in a bowl first, right?" wilbur wheezes. tommy cries out, running a hand through his very blonde, very not-dyed hair.</p><p> </p><p>"i'm gonna have to go buy another one from the store-- this is ridiculous wilbur, this is torturous--" he begins, and wilburs <em>screeching</em> with laughter. "how was i supposed to know i had to put it in a <em>bowl</em>, huh?!"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>it takes a while for wilbur's laughter to die out, and during that time, tommy had to practically wrap his hand in eight layers of toilet paper so he could grab the spilled bottle-- it hadn't spilled too much, not really, since the liquid wasn't very thin-- but still. he sighs a long, terrible sigh of pain, and wonders how long it'd take to scrub the pink off of the sides and seat of the toilet.</p><p>he watches with a frown as he plops the ruined bottle into the trash, and turns his attention back to his call with wilbur.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"hold on, i just realized-- do i need to bleach my hair, too?" he ponders, and wilbur exhales, forcefully ridding any last winds of laughter he had in him.</p><p> </p><p>"no, no, probably not, you're already blonde," wilbur notes, and tommy hums in agreement. "though-- what color are you dyeing your hair anyway? brown?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>for a second, tommy considers lying as his face flushes lightly in embarrassment, but he quickly shakes his head and reminds himself that wilbur wouldn't make fun of him for maybe-sorta-kinda wanting pink hair.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"pink," he responds, hoping his tone comes across as casual. wilbur doesn't waste a second in replying.</p><p> </p><p>"well, if it's a really light pastel pink, then it'll probably end up coming out as a bit darker," he muses. "maybe a rose-ish coral? sometimes the boxes have notes on the back to show how it shows up on different hair colors."</p><p> </p><p>"oh," tommy says, and examines the box, before frowning. "no, there's nothing like that on the back-- i don't really mind if it comes out a bit darker, though, so it's fine."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>wilbur hums, going silent for a second, before clicking his tongue in realization.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"oh yeah, you needed to go back to the store to get another box, right?" he asks, and tommy nods, muttering out a 'yeah'. "send me a picture of the different brands of dye you see, i'll let you know which one's the best to use."</p><p> </p><p>"you know a lot about hair dye?" tommy questions, raising an eyebrow. he exits his bathroom and makes his way towards the front door, slipping on his shoes. "is your oh-so-luscious brown hair dyed, wilbur?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>wilbur laughs, and tommy can sense it-- wilbur's doing the <em>thing</em>. the 'running-a-hand-through-his-bangs' thing.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"i bet you're doing the <em>thing</em> right now," tommy comments with a smirk, and wilbur sputters in confusion. "you know what i'm talking about!"</p><p> </p><p>"whatever," wilbur huffs, though a smile can still be heard in his voice. "i just know a few people who dye their hair a lot. call me when you get back, alright? i have to make sure you don't accidentally make your hair fall out."</p><p> </p><p>"don't even joke about that, man," tommy says, solemnly, before barking out a laugh. "what will the stans think?"</p><p> </p><p>"i think they'd spam 'baldinnit' in your twitch chat," wilbur teases. "i'm hanging up now-- i mean it. call me when you get back, toms, i'll talk to you in a bit, alright?"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>tommy's glad they're not chatting with their cameras on-- he wouldn't have an excuse for the wide smile growing on his face, nor a way to hide it.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"alright, alright, big man! see ya," he laughs, and slips his phone back into his pocket as he walks out and shuts the door behind him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>the locks on the door click shut, and tommy makes his way to the store for the second time that day, and can't help but look forward to the upcoming phone call with wilbur-- maybe he could record it, or get some of his other friends on the call, but..</p><p>then again, it'd be nice to spend some time with wilbur, just the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>it's been a while.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p>
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